I thought I had been cast out of the mud castle kingdom. Then one day it dawned on me, 28 miles per second would be enough to break through my own roaring and escape back into
over developed proxy and reach a small awareness.
enough, i thought, to overwhelm a wall of demons.

Guarded are their black glassy gates.
Then one day it happened.
Pam, crying chemical rainbow tears while looking at all of the big red blimps.
"now clouds" she said, "clouds should all be plastic and red." And with that her ankles turned to dust and started a fury of little cyclones. Outwards , outwards.
now she cant spell forwards. she can't count backwards, and every other time she blinks her eyes the retina won't flip the image. The world goes upside down and insideout.

I can't handle it.  
They all lied to her, told her the world was just level.
I am sleep now. I'm weak. Those big long brittle spider legs tapping at the pavement. Those ******* belladonna eyes and wormwood spire. Godamned, he bent the buildings out of shape. He could sink all the gondolas in Venice.

Black ruffled waves crossing,
sweeping over the crinkled eyes and the
mysteries that hide there
Childhood is remembered when one brings a comb
to the head of
this lovely excuse
for an animal
Describe it, disguise it, dye it different colors
simply to
feel
real
I spend my days dreaming of softly ruffling, slipping oily tips into the ocean of black waves
Your roots and ends are worth too much,
I should shave it all off while you sleep
and keep it in a bag to smell during days that you are absent.

And when your attic gets chilly and lonely,
I will glue it back on and we will rejoice,
won’t we?
We have no need for hats yet,
and we won’t until you are scared of dying
On sad days I want to run my hands through it
and live in your scalp
where everything
will be soft and sweet--sweat smelling
like in a cave that is never dark
or frightening

The girl’s corneas expand over the small black abyss of pupil
Tides of blue and hazel rising over onyx isles
An unhinged eyelash balances precariously on its neighbor
It evaporates with her quick blink

Directly beneath her right eye
Below the mottled eggplant shadows
The corpse of a capillary drains among the freckles
Subterranean rivers of vein
Pulse under thin skin

Her nose is spherical
Etched by soft papery scars
Pores round and gazing
Culminating in a uniform valley

Lips are soft and pink and unkissed
A source for a  small steady trickle of pride
Her mother’s lips
But behind the outer façade
The seamed surface is rough with nervous nibbles
Ribboned with scars of worries and troubles

She lacks fourteen teeth
Absent since the womb
Those she has are either sickly infants or filled with grainy mystery metallics
Some entirely fabricated with spatulas of amalgam
Yellowed and cracking
Rough and worn
Spongy inner marrow screaming with pain
She hides the stony incisors from view

The hair
Curling and waving
Kissing with reptilian tongues at her cheeks
Neck
Forehead
Framing her face in brambles and cowlicks
Indecisive of its true form
Fuzzy with moisture
Unwilling to obey
The strands of a gorgon
A monstrous tangle of personality
Instantly recognizable
Her hands attempt to soothe the undulating tendrils
But they anger
As stubborn as her
Refuse treatment
She gives up
Rinses her hands
And turns away from the mirror
Sighing

The spitting image
Was just in spitting distance
When she pricked herself in the spindle
And fell into spinet
Then ended up in the hospital on Guerrero street

The two dunderheads
Compared biceps
Engaged in a ******* contest
Their **** was red, forgot they had eaten beets
Now they're on their way to the hospital on Guerrero street

The embezzling imbecile
Who invented mystery meat
Was selling cowlicks at the concession stand
He had a heart attack when a horse voiced mulatto paid him in coins with no cash value
Now he's on a pram in the hospital on Guerrero street

The improviser had a bright idea
And epiphany
There was a light bulb above his head
But he was taken by the under tow and got water logged
Now he's held up in the hospital on Guerrero street

The beggar women ******* from a rusty spigot
Who studied the doctrine but didn't read the document or get the memo
That she was due for a mammogram, she was distressed
She could barely make ends meet
So now she brings he tin can of pennies with her to the hospital on Guerrero street

Amidst the unfortunate
Amongst the idiots
There is me, the one who got his hand stuck in peanut jar
Sitting in the waiting room damning myself in the hospital on Guerrero street

'Hold the candletip to my fingertips', she said
Shuddering under the weight of heat
And my incredulous stare.

'Do it'. she ordered, and I did,
Believing a love without identity would last as long,
'Cut off my hair.' she shouted

I did, it stuck up short
Cowlicks on her forehead
'Enough.' I said. She shook her head.

'Squeeze my chest, love, and don't be gentle,
For I shall know in the heave of my breast.'
I did and she cracked within under the hate of how much I wanted.

'Now, take my words-'
'What?'
'Let me finish.' she said

'Take my words and give me yours,
We can share one voice,
My God we can.'

I took my words,
Though it was agony to rip them free
And she received them without thanks.

Her hair short, her words shorter
Her chest flat, her fingers flatter
Before me a mirror stood

I tried to see her face, but only hated mine
And told myself I would never see her again
I realised too late her difference was what made me love her.

She's so beautiful

            With her drooping eyes and tired smile

She's so beautiful

             When she wakes up with cowlicks and sleep residue on her lashes

She's so beautiful

               Her sweatpants Mondays and princess weeks

She's so beautiful
She's so beautiful
Shes so beautiful

She's so beautiful

              With her sadness and joy and expression and kindness
              With every word of truth

And every word of love

I am abhorrently uninspired

Words dribble from my mouth like burped up bourbon
I am boring, disheveled, with razor bumps all over my face
Bags hang low off the deep circles around my eyes
I don't even know why I go to bed anymore

My wardrobe is a combination of the mundane and the gifted
My hair has cowlicks that are poorly held down and combed out with pomade
That hair grows more grey every day, mocking an underwhelming existence wasted
My ears have gauges, my body has tattoos, and these things do nothing to ail my complete lack of styling, image or personality

I am a twisted amalgamation of things desired and things forgotten
A grey blob splattered with color is a grey blob all the same
I am simply another numbered ball desperately begging to be chosen at your local lottery

In a house with all grey walls, vinyl planking, and cheap decor
The blinds on my windows are dusty and broken, with no drapes to hide them
My home is like the apartment of a 20 something that has the funding to purchase easy to assemble makeshift furniture and cheap mass produced art
Incense and candles burn constantly to mask the scent of my impending death and the desperation in evading it